


worlds apart

by fonulyn



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: ALL the comfort, Character Death, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Resident Evil 6, a bit of torture but described rly vaguely, gloating bc Krauser never shuts up, it's Krauser guys sorry he's dying, references to past sexual knifeplay, the last part is pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonulyn/pseuds/fonulyn
Summary: “You’re supposed to bedead,” was the first thing Piers managed to choke out, disbelievingly.Judging by his laughter Krauser was downrightdelighted, and he pulled back, twirling the knife in his hand as if he was almost showing off. “It suited my purposes back then. But things have changed.” He returned to the chair that he’d propped against one of the stone walls, dropped down into it with almost a content huff.-Or the one wherein Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Piers Nivans, Past Leon S. Kennedy/Jack Krauser - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	worlds apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeesKnees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/gifts).



> for beesknees: I don’t know if this is in any way what you wanted but here have some absolute nonsense :’D

With a groan Piers forced his eyes open, even though with the way his head hurt unconsciousness sounded like a nice treat worthy of indulging in for a while longer. He tasted blood in his mouth and he cleared his throat, spitting on the ground blindly. There was a strain to his shoulders and he struggled experimentally. His hands were bound above his head, shackled onto the wall probably, so high his toes barely reached the ground. 

“You could’ve made it harder for me,” a rough voice called out for him, clearly amused. “It was barely even a challenge.” 

Only because his head was still hurting, ears ringing, Piers didn’t rise to the bait and instead only focused his hazy gaze towards his captor. The man looked vaguely familiar, but in a way Piers couldn’t place, at least not with how his mind was still scrambling to even remember what had happened. He’d stayed late, gone to the gym… He was still wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, even if the shirt was dirtied with splotches of blood. The floor was cold against his bare toes, but he needed the support as his shoulders were screaming in protest the second he tried to put more weight on them. 

“What? No sharp remark?” The stranger laughed throatily, his lips twitching to a grin that pulled on the scar on his face. “I didn’t think Leon went for the meek and pliant. He always did like hard edges.” 

The mention of Leon finally got Piers to whip his head up, glaring at the man with defiance. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked, although it was difficult to get the words out with how his tongue felt so heavy, how his brain didn’t want to cooperate with him for long enough to string a proper sentence together. 

“Don’t try to pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” the man said, still grinning as he eyed Piers from head to toe, as if he was appraising him. “I was there long before you. How old are you anyway? Eighteen?” 

Piers scowled but didn’t even try to answer the question. Experimentally he tugged on his restraints again, but it was obvious that his captor knew what he was doing as there was no way he was breaking free from them. At the same time he was furiously trying to rummage through his memory for the smallest hint of who this man was. There was still nothing, he was sure he had never seen this face before in his life. 

The man stepped closer, pressing the flat side of a large knife against Piers’ throat, tilting his head as if he was still appraising him. He laughed again, moving in closer until he was only an inch from Piers, his bodyheat coming off him in waves, his breath hot on Piers’ neck as he spoke. “You were still playing with toy cars when I was already fucking him,” the man practically fucking purred. “Does he still love choking on cock? Such an eager slut.”

And then it finally clicked. 

_Jack Krauser._

Piers had never actually met the man or even seen a picture of him before, but Leon had talked about him a few times, hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure how much of his past he could share without being judged. He’d talked about misguided affection, about mourning, about betrayal. It had explained so many of the invisible scars Leon still carried within himself to this day, as much as he’d fought to bury them. 

“You’re supposed to be _dead_ ,” was the first thing Piers managed to choke out, disbelievingly. 

Judging by his laughter Krauser was downright _delighted_ , and he pulled back, twirling the knife in his hand as if he was almost showing off. “It suited my purposes back then. But things have changed.” He returned to the chair that he’d propped against one of the stone walls, dropped down into it with almost a content huff. 

For a moment Piers watched him, the way he was so obviously confident, how he thought that there was literally no threat to him in the entire situation. And really, there wasn’t. What could Piers do, shackled to a wall, not even armed. An unpleasant shiver went through him, and it was only through sheer stubbornness that he managed to keep the fear from being audible in his voice. “What do you want from me?” 

“Nothing,” Krauser answered with a shrug. He leaned back, crossed his arms over the wide expanse of his chest and hooked one ankle over another. Although he was attempting to seem as relaxed as possible, even closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall, there was something coiled in his body that showed he was ready to fight in a split second when necessary. 

Piers already thought he wasn’t going to say anything more, but then eventually Krauser broke the stretch of silence. “You’re bait.”

*

“You just don’t stay dead, do you?”

As Leon’s familiar voice cut through the room Piers could’ve wept with relief. Not that Krauser had done much more to him than talk, but the way he’d been detailing what seemed to be every single sexual exploit he’d ever had with Leon he was getting under Piers’ skin. It was the gloating, the way Krauser seemed to think that after him nothing could even compare, the way he spoke of Leon more as an object than as a human being. 

Piers was so tired of it. His shoulders hurt, his back hurt, every muscle in his arms hurt, and he was freezing as he was trying to lean against the stone wall behind himself for at least some semblance of support. 

There was no time for Piers to say anything before Krauser stepped between them, the by now so familiar edge of amusement to his voice. “Leon,” he greeted, obviously content. Maybe even a touch …warm? “Long time no see. I’ve been looking forward to this.” He was moving closer, each step relaxed like he had all the time in the world. “We should pick up where we left off.”

“Sure,” Leon agreed easily. There was something calculating and cold in his clear blue eyes, and he was staring Krauser down unflinchingly. “The last time I saw you I stabbed you. I’m more than willing to repeat that.”

As soon as he’d spoken, Leon looked at Piers and although he didn’t say anything out loud he was obviously scanning him from head to toe, trying to determine if he was hurt or not. He even arched an eyebrow slightly, questions in his eyes, and as an answer Piers quirked his lips upwards a little. There were nothing more than bruises to worry about, he’d deal, none of that mattered right now. 

Krauser either didn’t notice the exchange or he didn’t care. Piers was inclined to believe the latter. “Are you sure that’s the kind of knife play you’d prefer?” he drawled instead, twirling the knife in his hand as he circled to the side, eyes trained on Leon’s every move.

“ _Jack_.” Leon spoke sharply, warning in his voice.

Unsurprisingly Krauser ignored that, stepping back closer to Piers so he could address him. He angled his face towards him, but his eyes were still locked on Leon. “See these scars, kid?” Krauser asked, running the flat side of his knife over his own bare chest. The flipped it towards Leon, then, making a vague motion with the blade. “And the ones on his shoulders? Not all of them are from us trying to kill each other.” 

There was something indefinable in Leon’s expression, a careful mark of blankness covering what must’ve been an overabundance of emotions. There wasn’t even a slightest crack to it, not even when Krauser went on with a grin. “You used to be so eager for it, Leon. Do you remember? I had this,” he twirled the blade again, “against your throat, my cock splitting you in half, and you _begged for more_.”

Leon closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds. He seemed tired, and when he spoke again it was audible in his voice. “That was a long time ago.”

Krauser hummed. “I don’t think you’ve changed.”

“No,” Leon agreed easily. His eyes flickered towards Piers again, but he forced himself to focus on Krauser, wary of his every move. Yet there was raw honesty in his voice as he spoke up, a touch breathless as if it was hard for him to get the words out. “But don’t you realize it was never about violence for me? I trusted you. I laid myself bare for you because I trusted you wouldn’t break me.” There was a long pause, one during which time seemed to stand still, and when Leon added a “But you did.” it was so silent it was barely audible.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Leon,” Krauser grunted, and for the first time during the entire exchange he seemed displeased, like he wasn’t getting what he wanted anymore. He needed an outlet for his anger, and as Piers happened to be the closest to him he was the one to bear the brunt of it. Krauser slammed his elbow into Piers’ side hard enough to make him gasp, another of those hits following so quickly and brutally Piers could’ve sworn he felt a rib crack. 

Leon made a strangled noise and stepped forward, but he stopped in his tracks as Krauser pressed the blade of his knife against Piers’ neck. “Shall we see if your boy enjoys the same things you do?” he asked hoarsely, and although he was smiling his voice was cold, a crude imitation of amusement.

It was hard for Piers to remain upright with the way his ribs were still aching, with how his lungs were screaming for him to breathe in deeper. His head was swimming, but he still heard the steeliness in Leon’s voice. “Let him go, Jack. You wanted me, you got me. Let him go.”

“Do you think I’m _stupid_?” Krauser laughed throatily, not a hint of amusement in it, and for the first time he sounded truly unhinged, like he’d lost it completely. He twisted the knife against Piers’ neck, drawing blood, even if it was only a shallow cut that held no immediate threat. “No. You won’t—”

As he spoke he turned to face Piers, so close to him, and Piers didn’t think. He closed his eyes and snapped his head forward, slamming his forehead smack in the middle of Krauser’s face. 

Krauser only stumbled back barely half a step, but that was enough for Leon. There was a brief fight, but despite everything Krauser had been taken by surprise enough that he went down easy. Leon seemed surprised when the knife sank into Krauser’s neck instead, tasting his blood, until he was gurgling and choking on it. 

He hadn’t expected it to be so easy.

For a second Leon remained kneeling next to Krauser. Whether it was to ensure he was dead this time, or whether it was to mourn him, no one could tell. He gave a whispered goodbye, before he fumbled for the keys to the shackles and straightened again. 

There was blood splattered on Leon’s face as he stumbled closer, barely managing to open the lock with how shaky his grip was. Yet he somehow was able to summon up a smile, easily catching Piers as he fell forward against him. “Let’s get you home.” 

Grateful, Piers sagged against Leon. His fingers curled in the back of Leon’s shirt, clutching on to him as if his life depended on it.

*

Less than twenty four hours later Piers finally crawled in bed under the covers, feeling utterly wrung out. He’d barely managed a quick shower without falling asleep, with how he felt like every single part of him ached. The medical check up had felt endless, and the interview after that even longer, and he had longed for his pillow and a solid twelve hours of sleep.

Yet now that Piers was here, sleep eluded him. He listened to Leon take a shower and then rummage in the kitchen, and when Leon appeared in the doorway he was still wide awake. Leon didn’t comment on that. He knew how it was sometimes, how no amount of tiredness necessarily translated to being able to rest. 

“You okay?” Leon asked silently, almost hesitantly. He lingered in the doorway like he wasn’t certain if he was welcome, which was all kinds of ridiculous. It was _their_ home, _their_ bed, and Piers _always_ wanted him around. 

So Piers answered the question with another question. “Come here?” He shifted onto his side, patted the space next to himself a little, some of the tension bleeding off him when Leon moved closer. Neither of them said a word as Leon slipped under the covers. He settled on his side, facing Piers, and wherein he usually would've moved straight closer he now stayed still. With how touch starved he was, refraining from the comfort of the physical closeness was a clear sign that he had something on his mind.

"Leon," Piers said softly, "it's only a few bruises. I've been hurt a lot worse before." Despite how he was aching all over he knew he'd gotten off easy. Krauser could've easily killed him, or injured him much worse. Thankfully he’d been more interested in his end goal, or maybe he had considered Piers so insignificant he wasn’t even worth his attention.

Leon huffed, the corner of his mouth quirking up briefly. He didn't need to say what he thought, Piers could read the _'how is that a good thing'_ in his expression. Then Leon breathed in, holding it for a second, before speaking in a rush. "It's my fault. If it wasn't for me, you..." he trailed off.

There were multiple layers to that guilt, and it was too much to unpack now. Piers reached out and grabbed Leon's hand, the one resting on the mattress in the space between them. "It's not on you. You thought he was dead. Everyone thought he was." He gave Leon's hand a squeeze. "And I think he hurt _you_ more than me."

Leon huffed, his eyes watery and smile thin. "The first time I killed him... or, thought I'd killed him, I... that was the worst. I kept telling myself I should've saved him instead. I kept replaying that over and over, second guessing every single move I made." The words were barely audible, but he sounded determined to say his piece. "Today? I didn’t even think. I haven’t… not this time."

Not knowing how to go on, Leon shrugged a little, grimacing. He seemed so utterly disturbed by the mere thought that Piers could only squeeze his hand a little tighter. He had seen the wild determination on Leon's face, how he had single-mindedly attacked at the first given opportunity. And if he imagined the situation reversed? He knew he would not have been any different.

"I should be happy that he's gone," Leon continued after a moment, voice a mere breath. "Relieved. But I..." He trailed off, unsure of how to put his thoughts into words.

Piers felt his heart constrict in his chest, and suddenly it was hard to speak around the lump in his throat. "I know you had history," he said, fully aware that 'history' was a way too simple word for something so complicated. "It's okay to be sad. No matter what he's done."

Leon looked at him with a watery smile, turning his hand so he could hold Piers' in turn. "I already mourned him. Twice. I don't know if I have any grief left for him." He sounded so utterly tired, exhausted beyond measure, and Piers couldn't take it any longer.

So he used the hold of their hands to pull Leon in, against his chest, and hugged him so tight he wasn't sure it was entirely comfortable any longer. Yet Leon only clung to him equally as fiercely.

They were silent for the longest, focused on each other's breathing, the steady rise and fall of their chests. There was one thought that Piers' mind kept circling back to, and eventually he couldn't hold back the question any longer. "What he said," he started, "about the scars?"

Leon made a soft, almost wounded sound. "He wasn't lying," he replied. Some tension was back in the lines of his body, but when he started to withdraw Piers only held him a little tighter.

"I'm not judging," he hurried to explain, trying to put his swirling thoughts into proper words. "I'm only asking because I... is it something you need? Am I—" too boring? Too fucking vanilla? He'd thought they'd been adventurous enough, but compared to literally everything Krauser had described, Piers felt utterly and hopelessly boring.

"He wasn't lying," Leon repeated, but when Piers tried to speak he quickly pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him. "But neither was I. For me, it was always about trust. About... belonging?" He sounded unsure of the last word, but in the end went with it. He shifted, only so he could look at Piers, “I don’t need you to cut me up to make me feel like you want me.”

For a beat, Piers held the eye contact, as if he could find all the answers he needed right there in Leon’s eyes. Slowly he brought a hand up to his face, brushed a strand of hair off Leon’s forehead, and already that small gesture had Leon tilting his head, chasing the touch the best he could. It made Piers’ heart ache. “I always want you,” he said, voice choked. 

“I know,” Leon answered, his smile genuine. Surprisingly easily it morphed into a teasing grin, the tense lines of his face softening as he went on. “You’ve got a wretched temper but inside? Such a marshmallow.”

Piers huffed but it was barely annoyed, the affection in his voice overpowering everything else. “I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not,” he still tried to reprimand. He cradled Leon’s jaw in his palm, brushed his thumb over his cheek. It was finally sinking in that they were both in one piece, safe and sound, at least for now.

“It is a compliment, trust me,” Leon turned his head to press a soft kiss onto Piers’ palm. With a barely audible sigh he sank closer, pressed his face against Piers’ chest and shifted until he was comfortable. “I love that,” he added for good measure, maybe to make sure that the words were taken seriously, or maybe because he just wanted to. 

Leon was silent for long enough that Piers already thought he was asleep, but then Leon mumbled a barely intelligible “I love _you_.”

It wasn’t the first time he said the words out loud, but he did it so rarely that it managed to catch Piers off guard even now. He held on to the moment in silence for a beat, reveled in the words still echoing in his heart. Then he turned his head to press his face into Leon’s hair, slowly inhaling his scent as he let himself relax. 

Leon was already asleep, lightning fast, a testament to how exhausted and emotionally wrung out he’d been. Piers didn’t even manage to return the sentiment with actual words, but that was okay.

They were okay.


End file.
